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User blog:Psychomantis108/Story: Myths of Mundus: Dark Pilgrimage - Chapter 25: Aftermath (and Epilogue)
Okay, I get the feeling that a lot of people missed part 24, so here that one is, read that one first! Well, that quote came back to bite me in the ass didn't it? My five part short story, which was going to be around 15 pages long and written over the course of a month was twenty five parts long, christ knows how many pages long and was written over the course of six months! *Slaps wrist* BAD QUEENIE! ... Sorry, where was I? Oh, right... So this is the final part of MoM, our journey's end. I'd like to thank everyone who's ever read a chapter, anyone who commented, truly, everything said helps especially thoughts and feelings towards the story and it's characters, all of it makes helps me improve. :) ---- It took Arlas another week before she was stable enough to travel, though that time was hardly wasted, during those days she spent her time reflecting, discussing her adventures with Hermes and occasionally Frost-Heart. It took a great deal of contemplation to decide whether or not she wanted to return to the priesthood, the only place she fit in but was that true? She never truly did, she was sure that she was seen as an embarrassment by some, she was uncouth and uncaring about the pomp and ceremony of being a priest. She just wanted to help people… To be of use and she could do that without the Priest’s robes, in fact she may even be better at it. The day before she left, she and Hermes arranged a burial for Nair, she and Hermes were the only two attendants but she knew that he wasn’t exactly close to anyone else, he was barely close to them. Given the importance of her quest, Frost-Heart agreed to pay for Arlas’ carriage back to the Imperial City, saving the Bosmer a great deal of walking, after paying her respects to Nair for the final time, Arlas boarded the wagon and bid her farewells before she was hauled back to the Imperial City. After four hours of travel, Arlas had arrived in the Imperial City, a sight that looked alien after being away for the best part of two weeks. Still, the Bosmer did her best to push past it as she needed to get to the White-Gold Tower and see the aftermath of Bologra’s return. The city was still left standing, which was a good sign, though it was more than possible that Lorwel could have taken it without spilling a drop of blood, if he had his full power, he could have possessed the Emperor. Arlas didn’t know if entering the tower single handed was such a good idea, for all she knew, this could be a situation like the Tharn Crisis and she could be the only one who knew about it. Still, it was equally as likely that things turned out well, the Bosmer had no evidence of either but she’d be lying if she said that she was optimistic. It would’ve been better for her or even Nair to come back alone but Bologra could be more than a little… rash… The Bosmer entered the White Gold Tower, with some trepidation, due to the fact that she was still in the dark about the outcome of Bologra’s quest, she was kindly reminded that only the first floor was open to the public, by one of the guards as she entered. As she stepped inside, she saw a number of palace guards calmly patrolling the hallway, marching intensely from room to room. The Bosmer almost felt bad for interrupting them, given how focussed they were on their patrol routes but decided that it was for the greater good. She approached the Imperial Palace Guard, who immediately stopped, giving her his full attention. Non of the Guardsmen seemed to recognise her, though she didn’t recognise them either, so for all she knew, they could have been a completely different set of guards. “Hey, erm…” The Bosmer fell silent, feeling incredibly out of place, after she was left out of the picture for the best part of two weeks. “Councillor Aube is expecting me.” She finally said, feeling incredibly official all of a sudden. “Your name?” “Sister Arlas.” She said, in truth she wasn’t a proper sister yet but he didn’t need to know that. “Very well, wait here.” With that the Guardsman left Arlas alone, she stood awkwardly, sticking out like a sore thumb as the only person in the room who wasn’t wearing armour. She gently scratched her arm as she waited for the Councillor to join her. After a few moments she heard the loud clunk and creaking of one of the hallway doors as the Imperial Palace Guard stepped out, seemingly alone. He marched over to her, with a purpose, causing the Bosmer to feel a little concerned at the prospect that she’d just handed herself over to a corrupt government. “Sister Arlas?” He asked, as if he didn’t have her attention already. “Y-Yes… Will Councillor Aube be coming down?” “No Ma’am, he’s requested that you go to him, he’s waiting for you in his office.” Arlas raised an eyebrow, feeling more than a little confused by this, being invited to the forbidden floors of the Imperial Tower, something that few had the privilege of doing. She began to feel even more suspicious but knew that if she was walking into a trap, she couldn’t back out now, too many guards surrounded her and she didn’t have her living, breathing battering ram to keep them at bay. Knowing this, she gave the Guard a stern nod, ready to face whatever lay in store for her. ---- It was a long climb, up to the top of the Imperial Tower but Arlas and her Guard Friend finally reached the right floor, Arlas had no idea what number floor it was as she had stopped counting around the twentieth, apparently the Ayleids constructed this tower and they most likely had very muscular legs from having to do this crap every day. Arlas followed the Guardsman as he reached Councillor Aube’s front door, he slowly raised his hand and gently tapped his knuckles against it, to get his attention. There was a four second delay after he knocked, though it felt like an eternity to Arlas, who wasn’t exactly sure what to expect. After having four seconds of speculation time, the muffled voice of Soir Aube leaked through the wood as he beaconed them in. The Guardsman respectfully nodded to Arlas before opening the door for her and keeping hold of it to allow her passage. The Bosmer gave him a meek but grateful smile as she stepped inside, immediately seeing the Councillor behind his desk. “Arlas, it’s great to see you back on your feet.” Aube beamed, almost as if he had been anxiously waiting for her all that time or for no time at all, like she was only a few hours late, instead of a few weeks. “How’re you feeling?” Arlas did her best to sugar coat it, she doubted that he really cared but it was difficult to sugar coat a knife to the heart easily, so she had to be at least a little bit honest. She shrugged and pressed her hand against her chest, which still felt incredibly strange to her. “Feels a little stiff… hurts sometimes but it’s getting there. I think the rest did me good.” She replied, giving the Councillor a shrug. “What about Bologra? And the Emperor and Jorwel? What’s happened to them?” Aube quickly raised his hands and pushed down with them, indicating that he wished for her to calm down, as he gave her an assuring smile. “Everything is fine Arlas… Bologra returned with the axe and used it to destroy Lorwel’s avatar, severing his connection to Nirn and banishing him. His actions were… a little rash but they seem to have saved the day. Nobody was hurt and the axe is being kept in the Imperial Vault, along with the fragments of Lorwel’s statue, each is kept separately of course, we aren’t taking any chances and we’ve even sent some of the samples off to the Arcane University for further study. As I said, we have everything under control.” “What about Bologra? Where is he now?” “He’s… Around, he checks in every day, making sure that you’ve arrived, I’m sure that he’ll be relieved to know of your safety. Any longer and I think that he might have gone up to Bruma, after you.” Arlas couldn’t help but chuckle at that remark as the Orc seemed pretty eager to be free of her. She couldn’t help but be resentful towards him for ending their quest, still it would have been illogical to wait for weeks, possibly months for her to get better, assuming that nobody would take the axe in the meantime. He did the right thing without a doubt but that didn’t mean that she liked it. “I’ve been waiting for the both of you to be here before I… addressed your contributions to banishing Lorwel. I won’t lie Arlas, few know the gravity of the situation and even less know how important your roles were in protecting the Emperor and the Empire from Daedric Influence, you have our eternal gratitude. I am more than happy to grant you any boon that you desire, plus Imperial Crafted armour and weapons of the finest quality. I must confess, I… Am a little unsure as to what a Sister of the Chapel could want in return, this should be… interesting.” Arlas could see what he meant, though in truth, she was definitely unsure as to whether or not she belonged in the cloistered life of the Chapel. Being out there, seeing it all, helping people like Nair and seeing the Ardwolf clan’s destruction, it made her so much more eager to get out there and… See the world, explore, assist whenever possible and most importantly, live freely. Still, she had the ability to decide what she could have to get a head start, she could have anything she wanted or needed in order to get a head start. “I’m… Not sure…” The Bosmer uttered, bringing her hand to her chin as she thought on it but Aube quickly waved her concern away. “Don’t trouble yourself over it now, have a drink and a meal and a good night’s rest before deciding. I’m sure that Father Lorius will be eager to see if you’re okay or not.” “Yeah…” The Bosmer uttered, not sounding all that convinced as she sighed, folding her arms and shrinking a little into a less confident huddle. “We can’t all be like Bologra, knowing exactly what we want all the time.” The Councillor smirked, getting Arlas to look up in confusion before finding herself giving in and smirking a little at the thought of it. “What did he want?” “He said that he wanted to go to Morrowind, asked me to give him as many arms as he could carry so that he could kill as many creatures as possible. It is a shame that he wasn’t born during the time of the great Cliffracer Cull, I’m sure that his service would have been invaluable.” Aube chuckled, causing Arlas to break into a slight laughing fit as she imagined him running around the hillside, swiping at Cliffracers as they flew around his head. However, the joy was shortly lived as the reality of the situation came crashing back down, she found herself still troubled, feeling like leaving the Priesthood would be disrespectful to Lorius and all of the other people who put so much time, effort and energy into getting her to where she is now. She let her guard down and Aube immediately noticed the solemn look on her face and found himself unable to resist intervening. “Something wrong?” He asked, testing the waters. “N-No… It’s nothing…” “Normally, when people say that, they’re deflecting the question and not answering it.” Aube pointed out, getting the Bosmer to meet his gaze. “Nah, it’s… just… It doesn’t matter.” “Hah, that doesn’t stop anyone else from bringing things to my concern, please; you’d be surprised at how significant this might be, even if it’s just in comparison to some of the nuisances that I’ve had to deal with over the years.” Aube replied, giving the Bosmer a shrug as he found himself to be curious about her concerns, from what little Bologra had told him, she had quite a few reasons to be concerned, few of which could be considered trivial. “Please… What’s on your mind?” The Bosmer remained reluctant to share but decided that she was cornered, she must want to on some level, because she brought it up. She sighed heavily and glanced from side to side before folding her arms and falling silent. “I’m… Thinking about leaving the Priesthood…” She explained, feeling a little ashamed for saying it, like she was stabbing Father Lorius in the back. “Maybe taking my healing skills out on the road, living for myself and helping the people that I want to help, y’know?” She explained, hoping that that made more sense aloud than it did in her head. Soir didn’t know what to expect, so this wasn’t too shocking for him to hear, in fact it seemed more than rational for someone so young, especially in Mer years to not want to tie themselves to a Priesthood at such a young age. “I do know, I understand perfectly.” The Imperial said, respectfully as he rose to his feet. “I take it that you are… conflicted as to whether or not you are shirking your duties to the nine by taking this path?” Arlas nodded, he knew her better than she did, she decided to remain silent and listen to what advice he had to part with. Aube slowly walked around his study, admiring the many ornaments on display as he thought on it for a moment; he’d pick up a small figuring, examine it for the millionth time that day and then gently place it down. After a few minutes of walking in circles, he had finally come to his conclusion. “Hmm… Are you aware of the story of Martin Septim?” He asked, pausing to allow the Bosmer to answer, though it came pretty quickly. “Of course, I work less than a few feet away from his remains.” The Bosmer replied, with a smirk, prompting the Councillor to chuckle somewhat. “Well, I’m sure that you’re aware that he was raised as a priest as well? He was Brother Martin before the Hero of Kvatch found him and helped him find his true calling.” The Imperial explained, hoping that she could see where he was going with this. “I am not a believer in destiny or fate but I do believe that there are a lot of people like Martin, who when they’re called away from their original calling find their true place in the world and achieve great things. I believe that you are one of these people Arlas, I see it, Bologra sees it, Lorius sees it and believe that even Lorwel saw it. Travel, learn more, make use of your talents and better the world around you. It’s not like you cannot come back to the Priesthood once you’re done.” Arlas fell silent, finding herself smiling a little, she was thankful that she didn’t have much of an ego, because that would have been a lot to take on board if she did. Still, it did feel like she had had her vision cleared, like the condensation had been wiped off of her view of the world, she smiled and nodded respectfully. “Th-Thank you… Councillor.” She said, giving him a respectful nod as she placed her hand on her chest. “I… I guess that settles it, it’s time for me to leave the city, leave Cyrodiil maybe…” “And raise hell with Bologra?” Aube chuckled, knowing that the two mer were more than likely to part ways at the end of all of this but the image was a humorous one, none-the-less. “Heh, I think I’d just get in his way.” The Bosmer replied, shaking her head with a smirk. “I was thinking… Valenwood? Summerset? Don’t know, just always wanted to see them.” She shrugged, slowly drawing Lorwel’s staff and examining it. “Hmm… Do you need this? For your… vault?” Aube thought on it for a moment, looking at the staff from afar but he eventually shook his head with a smile. “I think you’ve earned it, though let’s just keep that between us, okay?” Arlas nodded with a smile, appreciating his faith as she sheathed the destruction staff into its holster on her back. “Well, thank you, Councillor, for… everything.” “I don’t believe that I have done anything for you, not yet anyway. Something I hope to rectify in the near future.” The Imperial replied, taking a step forward and placing a hand on the young Bosmer’s shoulder. “I believe that the one receiving the thanks should be you, Sister Arlas.” Arlas stopped him to raise a finger, halting him in his tracks, with a slight smirk. “I won’t be Sister Arlas for much longer…” “So, just Arlas then?” The Councillor asked, with a raised eyebrow. The Bosmer then shook her head, folding her arms and giving him a shrug as she worked up the courage to correct him. “Arlas is my surname, when I was Sister Arlas it made sense but… it’d feel a little weird now. I’m not a Sister anymore, so I guess that just makes me Lianne.” Aube chuckled and shook head, seeing her reasoning and somewhat agreeing with it, it felt weird being called ‘Aube,’ even when it was called for. In truth he wished that people called him Soir sometimes but he had to keep his respectable position open as much as he didn’t like it. “Well, I’ll let you go, so that you can get on over to the Merchant Inn before Bologra raises hell in there. He said he’d be waiting for you with a fine tankard of ale.” “Heh, well, I guess I earned it.” She smirked, feeling Aube take hold of her hand and slowly lift it up, placing something heavy and metallic inside. “Here, before I forget…” He began, letting go of her hand and revealing that he had placed a gold coin at the center of it, it was a lot smaller than standard currency and heavier, making it seem more like a medal. “The seal of the Empire, a sign of good faith to ensure that our friends are always looked after. Keep it close and use it well and you’ll always have a roof over your head, wherever you go.” Arlas wrapped her hands around the seal and gently placed it into her robe pocket, giving the Councillor an appreciative nod and a smile. “Thank you.” ---- Arlas went straight from there to the Merchant’s inn, where she was re-united with Bologra. She informed him of Nair’s passing and of her decision to leave the Priesthood, non-too surprisingly; Bologra took both of these things pretty well and seemed more eager to get her to the table, to pour her a drink. The two of them spent their last night as a team killing as many of their brain cells as possible, drinking eachother under the table. It was a long battle and no clear victor was announced, in the morning a debate was started as to which one could claim to be victorious, a debate that still rages to this day. Arlas Arlas returned to Father Lorius and informed him of her decision, surprisingly her mentor made no attempt to dissuade her; he pulled her in and embraced her before helping her pack her things and arranging her transportation to the south. After packing, the two of them stayed up for hours, they talked nonstop over a glass of port as the Bosmer informed him of her adventures. Her tales didn’t exactly help the Priest with his doubts but he realised that she was a happier and stronger person than ever. The two of them spoke long into the night before retiring as Arlas crawled into her bed for the last time, she curled up and closed her eyes, dwelling on their last night together. She almost didn’t want to go but knew that she had to as a traveller, she would see him again, she’d write often and think of him always. The Bosmer left the next morning, after a tearful goodbye from Father Lorius, she left his arms and stepped out into the Imperial City as a different person, she was no longer Sister Arlas and was now Lianne Arlas, travelling healer and adventurer. She went to the White Gold Tower and spoke to Aube one last time, having decided what she wanted as a reward, the Imperial’s reaction didn’t truly convey his emotional response to her request but he executed it without hesitation. By noon Arlas had hit the road, heading south, back to her people’s homeland. Bologra Blackbeard Bologra collected his weapons a week after asking for them and awaited patiently for Arlas’ return. As soon as she left his life, seemingly for good, he armoured himself up and took up arms and marched straight up to Morrowind to pick a fight with the first poncy knife eared house soldier that looked at him funny. He eventually found what he was looking for in Solstheim, where he challenged some soldiers of a Great House and ended up taking down scores of them before eventually becoming overfaced by their numbers. He was taken to the dungeons, where he was approached by one of senior members of the house, who informed him that they were quite impressed with his brute strength, skill and resistance to physical damage. He gives Bologra a mercenary job, which lasted around a week before he got bored of it and left. He continued to travel from there, until he one day encountered a group of strange creatures patrolling the roads. Intrigued by their magma-like structure, Bologra got himself ready for a fight. Without any warning he let out an enraged cry and charged at the unknown soldiers, spit flying from his mouth and clinging to his beard, fingers wrapped tightly around his hand axe and a murderous lust in his eyes. What happened from there is a tale for another day… ---- After Lorwel’s defeat, the Silver Road became a peaceful place, where little happened. With the Ravagers gone and the nearby cultists dispatched, no threats remained in the area and not enough time had been granted for new ones to be established. Taking advantage of the calmness of the region, a cloaked man walked along the road, a Nord with long, fair hair, who hung his head, concealing it in the dark. He marched along the dirt road. He kept his eyes fixated on the path ahead, until he came up to a hastily patched up wooden door. Few knew what really inflicted this damage on it but he did as he was at the heart of all of this, when it began. The Nord felt the heat off of the lamp, hanging off of the window as he stepped inside, doing his best not to look at the inn’s sign as it swung triumphantly in the air, displaying the worst moment of his life as a moment of glory for weaker men. Lars stepped inside Crovenhoft Inn; his hard heavy boots gave off a slight thud with each step as he slowly paced across the room. He got a great deal of intrigue from the patrons, who swiftly snapped their heads around to investigate the troubled looking warrior as he made his way over to the counter. He stopped just short of it, resting his elbow on it as he leaned over and waited for some attention from the tavern’s owner, who was busy preparing something over the stove. He cursed and grumbled as he nearly cut his fingers half a dozen times, either ignoring or finding himself oblivious to Lars’ presence. The Werewolf grew impatient and brought his hand to his mouth, deeply clearing his throat, hoping to get the Breton’s attention. This consequently startled the still quite jittery inn keeper as he turned around, immediately coming face to face with the second most unfriendly patron in the region. “Y-You, y-you’re supposed to be dead!” Lars just glared at him, furrowing his brow and narrowing his eyes. “Am I now? Who decreed that I should be dead?” The Nord asked, seeming somewhat enraged at the prospect that his death is being treated as something that ‘should be.’ “W-Well… There’s been talk, about the Werewolves, all of them were found dead up at Crusader’s Rest. I… Didn’t mean to cause offense, I just… I just wasn’t expecting one of the Ravagers to walk through my door.” The Breton spluttered, bumbling and fumbling around his words as he tried to find the right ones to appease the enraged Nord behind the counter. Lars strangely didn’t take offense to the title of ‘Ravager’ in fact he almost revelled in it. He was now a thing of fear, an urban legend, this gave him power, a sign of respect… no, better than that, fear. “I know that, I was there… But the rumours are false; I was among the dead but not one of them.” “Clearly…” The Breton uttered, feeling very uncomfortable “So… Have you come here for a drink?” He followed up, nervously, gently rubbing his hands together as he felt a little ill all of a sudden. The Werewolf began to look around, seeming to be scanning the room with his eyes. “Yes… I am rather parched, though I will also need a place to stay, whilst we recuperate…” The Breton nodded, taking a bottle and tilting the glass as he poured the Nord a drink, however, he quickly fell silent and shot his head up, looking incredibly concerned by the vagueness of that last comment. “Recuperate?” “Yes.” Lars replied, politely but rather forcefully taking the drink from his hand and pressing it to his lips, taking a sip of it before lowering it down to the table. “My people and I will need some time to gather, rebuild.” “Your… People?” Lars’ eyes slowly rose up to meet the Breton’s causing him to shrink and back away, silently clearing his throat as he began to squirm under the Werewolf’s icy gaze. “Of course… Clan Ardwolf have been kicked back down to one man, many times before, we’ve even survived our own extinction.” He stopped to knock his drink back, slamming the copper cup down on the table as he slowly rose to his feet, causing the Breton to back off as he struggled to predict the Nord’s next movements. “We are a family…” He explained as an aura began to take effect around him and he slowly began to alter, his body changing form. “And like every family… We are connected through blood!” With that, Lars immediately shifted into an eight foot tall Werewolf, resulting in the Breton barkeep screaming and stumbling backwards as the Werewolf leapt up into the air and landed on top of him, every patron in the room either ran out of the inn screaming or drew their weapons and took their chances. The massacre ended with a harrowing howl, which echoed throughout County Bruma, signalling the Ravager’s return. Category:Blog posts Category:Stories Category:The Legend of Nirn